


Bonnie Lass

by msmeadows



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Everybody Lives, F/M, First time Hobbit fic, I am so ashamed of myself, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3435203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmeadows/pseuds/msmeadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo wasn't sure what he had done to deserve this, but he was sorry... So very very sorry.</p>
<p>* After the 5th chapter this will turn into a series of short interconnected one shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my very first Hobbit fic! I have to thank my wonderful amazing beta and bestie... this fic would be even worse with our her. The first few chapters of this are going to be a bit rough, I have a plot in mind and the basic structure of the story down. It has become a matter of flow and fine tuning. I am going to try an update once a week (fingers crossed). Comments are always welcome, if this fic goes well then I have a few more in mind that I hope to post as well.  
> Thank you all for reading!  
> Love,  
> Ms. Meadows

Seeing his gardener sprinting towards his pony brought about the first stirrings of panic in Bilbo’s chest. He had suspected that his return to the Shire would be met with some kind of gossip, maybe even a bit of civil disquiet once the Sackville-Baggins learned he had not been ingested by some creature or better yet thrown down a mountain by the group of dwarves that had spirited him away so many months ago. The irony of which was not lost on him. The gardener stumbled the last few meters in an effort to stop before he latched onto the ponies reigns. Cheeks flamed red with exertion Hamfast launched into an explanation Bilbo was at a loss to understand. Watching his friend of many years gesticulate wildly and stuttering at a maddeningly fast rate Bilbo could only look on in mild amusement. It was the frustrated squeal of “Lobelia” that wiped away all of his amusement, the cold dregs of panic that had begun in his chest rolled like thick mud down his spine. His pony was off and running before he could even call back to the company of dwarves behind him. Their shouts of irritation lost on the hills of the Shire.

Bilbo Baggins for all of his barrel riding, riddle making, bravery…(read: idiocy)…and an absolute lack of self-preservation was terrified of one Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. He was certain, CERTAIN the woman could have glared Smaug into naught but a whimpering jumble of wings and jewels. And he assumed, rightly so, that the rest of the Shire not only agreed with having a HEALTHY fear of her, but encouraged preventative measures and taught techniques on how to keep her from launching into one of her episodes. He could not however, imagine what had stirred Hamfast into such a state. For all the years he had known him his gardener had been slow to action, always preferring to know all the facts and thoroughly assess a situation before making any sort of decision. Spurring the pony down the desolate street of Bagshot Row Bilbo tried to steel himself for whatever surprise awaited him at Bag End. 

The resounding crack of bone had Bilbo dismounted in record time, shoving his way through the mass of hobbits that had gathered in front of his smial took a bit more effort and a lot more creative cursing. Tripping over feet and dodging elbows as loud cheers rang out from the crowd Bilbo finally stumbled and tumbled his way to the front.

 

He blinked…

 

Rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and blinked again…

 

Closed his eyes and counted to five…

 

Then cocked his head owlishly to the side for good measure…

 

Rolling around in his Tulip beds was Lobelia and a rather small Hobbit lass he couldn’t recall ever meeting, Lobelia gained her footing long enough to be tackled back into the soil flat on her stomach, the lass fisted to loose handfuls of grey streaked curls and PULLED. Lobelia let out a pained wail and bucked wildly in an effort to dislodge the irate girl on her back. Bilbo laughed despite himself.  
Glancing around Bilbo scanned the faces of the crowd behind him. With a start he noticed Otho seemed to be cheering for the young lass louder than anyone else.  
This had to stop… right now

 

Squaring his shoulders Bilbo threw himself into the fray of skirts and fist.

He landed gracelessly on his arse, right hand shielding his rapidly swelling eye and with the taste of copper on his tongue. By Mahal’s hammer (confound the dwarrows and their sayings) that was enough! Bilbo gathered every ounce of courage he had and flung himself back into battle… 

He would reflect later that it had much less intimidating facing down Azog…

On a Warg…

In the middle of a forest fire…

Lobelia, as it turned out, had a vicious right hook that would have had Dwalin squealing in girlish appreciation. The world began to spin wildly as he tried to gain his footing. Hysterically he reflected that someone needed to write an informative pamphlet on the proper technique for handling relatives like Lobelia (or maybe just Lobelia herself)  
He was going to vomit… Yvanna save him he was going to wretch right in front of the entire population of Hobbiton.  
Between feminine screech of “Master Baggins!” followed by the deep masculine rage of “Bilbo!” He realized Yvanna would not be gifting him with mercy… No Bilbo Baggins, Son of Bungo Baggins, Master of Bag end, Master Burglar, and barrel rider extraordinaire had personally pissed off the Valar. 

He was exceedingly sorry…

And then the darkness swallowed Bilbo whole.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just going to go ahead and post what I have... These chapters are way more rough an awkward than I wanted them to be. I cannot seem to find my rhythm with The Hobbit yet.

Tucking deeper into the pillows Bilbo opened a lazy eye and watched the dust motes settle against his curtains. He would need to air out his smial when he decided to fully greet the day, chuffing an annoyed sigh as his list of daily chores began to stir him from the last dregs of blissful rest he arched his stomach against the bed… and promptly gagged into his pillow. 

Waking up in his cozy little room in Bag End was to date, the most disorienting moment of his life. Bracing himself on his elbows against the mattress Bilbo fought against the overwhelming ache in left temple and bit back the bile in his throat. There had been a brief moment of horror that the past year and half of his life had been a dream, just another story to pen later in his quiet little house after his daily chores were done.  
The echoing BANG of his bedroom door against the plaster of his wall (and damn if he didn’t have a dent to fix now!) Bilbo was met with the disheveled image of his husband. Thorin looked every inch the war hardened dwarf he had been carved into after years of wandering in search of a home for his people. All traces of majesty vanished beneath the hard set of his jaw, the tight line of his shoulders, and the malice in his eyes. Bilbo decided he was not healthy enough for whatever accusation or lecture Thorin was about to grace him with; throwing his quilt over his head he began the task of studiously ignoring his husband.

The small bed dipped and groaned under Thorin’s weight “I will not simply vanish because you have hidden beneath a shield of fabric. You have lied to me Burglar and I will have my explanation, whether I must brave your quilt for it or not.” The indignant screech that tore from Bilbo’s throat was enough to tick a smile on the King’s mouth. Leaning over and pressing the hard lines of his chest into the softer smaller curves of his burglar beneath the quilt Thorin pulled the worn fabric down enough to reveal a pointed ear. “You told me the Shire did not have warriors, that it was full of gentle folk who valued home and family above all else. You lied my burglar, it is only my second venture into your small corner of middle earth and yet I find warriors on your own porch.”

Snapping into a sitting position Bilbo opened his mouth to let his darling spouse know which particular orifice he could shove his explanation, his lunch and large amount of acrid smelling bile beat his heated words to his throat, landing squarely in his husbands lap. Snorting in disgust Bilbo raised his eyes to Thorin’s; the tale tell twitch of his right eye was all the warning he had before Thorin launched himself at the door (banging yet again against the plaster!) running down his hall screaming for Oin. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bilbo tossed back the quilt and places his feet on the floor. Thorin in his haste to find the deaf as a post healer had splattered the vomit from his lap onto a rather ornate rug Bilbo had purchased only a week before his misguided adventure through all of middle earth. The Baggins in him simply could not let it be and the Valar only knew someone would have to wrangle his husband into some semblance of calm. Honestly, everyone thought he was the fussy male out of the two. Had anyone ever encountered Thorin near vomit or a spider the would be in for a heavy dose of shock.

Pushing himself onto his feet Bilbo sent a quick prayer to the Valar for strength. It wasn’t more than two full steps that the concussion he received from his generous cousin decided to take full control of his body, switching his right foot with his left Bilbo pitched headlong into his mother’s vanity. The wet squelch of his forehead meeting the wooden corner blurred the edges of his focus. The world dipped, sagged, and danced in and out of his vision while he stumbled about the room in an effort to right himself. Yet again his prayers had gone unanswered, twice in one day Bilbo had called for divine intervention and twice he had been denied. 

As the blackness rose to meet him again he loudly proclaimed “VALAR BE DAMNED!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters after this to try and get a basic story line. This work will then become a series of interconnected one shots.

Dwalin wasn’t exactly sure how he was elected the one to “subdue” the young hobbit lass, but he was thanking Mahal (considering building him a shrine really) that he was not the one having to hog tie the harpy of a woman, Bilbo called Lobelia. Fili and Kili had had to corner the viper, tackle her to the ground, and tie her like prize boar from a hunt. Her husband, (Otto?) had watched the two princes dance around the creature for a solid five minutes before doubling over and howling with laughter when Fili went after her with a frontal assault. The hollow thud the Prince made as his back connected with floor was enough to make Dwalin flinch.  
Kili, bless the poor lads overzealous heart took personal offence to his brothers harsh treatment and tackled the deranged woman to the ground, rope in hand, muttering every curse he’d picked up from a year and a half with a group of rather dodgy darrows. By the time he actually had her pinned and tied Fili had regained his footing. Running his eyes over the boys Dwalin assessed the damage. Both boys suffered multiple scratches… and Fili… well his mustache would grow back in a few months. Her husband fell to his knees in his mirth, the noise from his laughter had choked off into a gasping click in the back of his throat. The look Lobelia sent him could have leveled an army.  
Kili had gagged her only moments later when the woman began to spit at her spouse.

Once she was more or less successfully bound(and gagged) the little lass she had been rolling around in the tulips with (and hadn’t that been a sight!) let out a war cry that would have rivaled Durin’s himself and flung herself back onto the harpy. Toppling over a china cabinet the two women rolled gracelessly across the floor. One with her hand buried deep with grey and honeyed curls, the other kicking frantically while shrieking through a gag. If Dawlin let the young lass lay into the old crone a bit longer than was strictly necessary no one needed to know, and if Fili was yelling pointers to the young lass to better cripple his moustache assasain, well Ori wasn’t here to record it.  
Scooping the young woman into the crook of his elbow Dwalin hefted her up and over his shoulder and made a tactical retreat (because he was in no way scared that woman would loosen her bonds, what a ridiculous notion) to the safety of the kitchen.The sound of screeching laughter following them.  
The lass was kicking, beating against his back, and spitting curses for all her worth; he was almost impressed. Plopping her down into a wooden chair Dwalin came face to face with the most enraged scowl that had ever been cast in his direction. “You want to tell me what the ol’ madam did to deserve ye ire, or ye content to sit there lookin’ like a cat run out of fight?” The wide eye spluttering indignation was enough to stretch a wan smile over his face. Crouching down on the balls of his feet Dwalin came eye to eye with the small lass. 

She was such a small thing, he had always thought Bilbo frighteningly fragile. The lass looked to be as delicate as spun sugar, had he not seen her viciously attacking the other Hobbit Madam he would’ve been afraid to even breathe in her direction. 

Long raven curls cascaded over her shoulders and settled in her lap, one wickedly hazel and one rich brown eye peered back at him, a splash of freckles across a porcelain complexion, and a plump pink bow mouth set in a deep scowl. The lass couldn’t have stood past his breast bone, he was almost positive he could wrap one hand from her navel to her back, he could have sworn hobbits prided themselves on their cheery plumpness.  
Rocking himself back onto his heels, he stood tall before sweeping into a small bow “ Dwalin, Son of Fundin, at your service.” The lass blinked wide eyed at him for a moment, a small rose blush staining her cheeks. “Bonnie Proudfoot,” she replied “at yours.”  
He couldn’t have stopped the smile that split his face if he tried.

“A fitting name for a bonnie la..”

“OIN! OIN! BY MAHAL YOU DEAF BLIGHTER WHERE ARE YOU!?”

Cutting off a groan Dwalin looked sharply over his shoulder to see his King franticly running down the hall.

Fili and Kili both hopped up from the staring contest they were engaged in with Lobelia to trod off after their uncle.  
Bonnie reached out, grabbing his forearm to help gain her balance to stand. Attention snapping back to the lass he opened his mouth to try again, when a wet SMACK followed by vindictive shout of “VALAR BE DAMNED!” echoed throught the house. Bonnie was off and running before he could snap his jaw shut.  
Leaning his heavy frame against the door way Dwalin watched as the King, two princes, Oin, Bofur, Nori, and Gloin hurried past. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he reflected that maybe a shrine was a bit excessive… Mahal didn’t seem to be with anyone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a fast note... I am reworking the first three chapters (I wrote then in a very hasty fashion) I am trying to get them to flow more easily. By Saturday night I should have all five chapters fixed and posted. I haven't forgotten the few of you who read this, and I am so appreciative of the few of you who do!
> 
> Thank you,  
> Ms. Meadows
> 
> Update: I have fixed the first three chapters, this one is a bit of a filler. Chapter 5 is turning out to be quite a bit longer than all of my previous ones, I should have it posted by Saturday. Thank you to everyone who has left kudos an comments!

Having the attention focused on her was never a comfortable feeling. Bonnie had always been content to work quietly in her small shop at the far end of Hobbiton. She did not greet neighbors cheerfully in the market, she didn’t gossip in sewing circles, or meet with the stuttering clumsy couples behind the Party Tree.  
Having a KING’S attention focused on her made Bonnie want to fall to her knees and beg Yvanna to have the ground swallow her whole.  
She wasn’t sure when her idea went from a passing thought into a full blown plot, but Bonnie was desperate. Being “odd” was never a good trait in a hobbit… Being the product of an affair, with strange features, and even stranger hobbies was equivalence of packed barrel of black powder next to an open flame. Bonnie knew that it was only a matter of time before she was marked as a disturber of the peace and cast out into the world alone. Her young life had been filled with fear for the day the Thain would come knocking at her parents door.

And then Bilbo Baggins ran away with thirteen dwarves and a wizard.

He became her private hero the moment Lobelia when tearing into the market screaming about the shame her cousin had brought to his family. She kept track of his rumored where abouts during his trip on the map in her workshop, her fingers constantly skipping along the potential routes to Erebor when fear choked her a bit too tightly.

The day it was announced that Erebor had been won not only from Smaug, but Orcs and Goblins; Bonnie sat beneath her map and wept with happiness.  
Lobelia had gone to the Thain that very day and petitioned to have Bilbo pronounced dead, no Hobbit, not matter how brave could survive such a fight. She and her husband moved in to Bag End not even a full two days after the memorial service.

Bonnie took her first trip to Bree a month later. Refusing to believe her hero dead she quietly began to plan her own escape from the Shire.

Frantic banging on the front door pulled Bonnie back to the present, eyes locking with the King Bonnie took a breath to steady herself. Primula Took flew into the room, bosom heaving “The Thain is coming Bonnie! He has three rangers and warrant with your name on it! RUN!” 

Bonnie’s eyes never left the King’s “I have come to ask for the hand of Bilbo Baggins, Master of Bag End. I have the funds to pay my dowry and a contract ready to be signed.” Slamming her eyes shut she begged Yvanna one more time, if the ground would not swallow her please please PLEASE let Bilbo sign the contract that woud give her wings to fly. The eerie silence shattered when another knock sounded at the door.  
Bag End exploded into screaming chaos. Yvanna would not heed Bonnie’s prayers.

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to try and add two more chapters before Friday.. Happy reading!


End file.
